Page 94 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

My smirk is sharp. Bitter. Possessive.

“That’s because I don’t know how tohalfwant something, Elise.”

She flinches slightly when I say her name. Like it means something more now. Like it holds weight. She’s right.

It does.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” I ask, voice husky, dark. “I used to sleep just fine. Used to kill without thought. Used to fuck, bleed, command—without ever wondering what it would mean tolosesomething.”

I dip lower, until my lips hover over hers. I don’t kiss her. “I killed for you.”

“You’ve killed before,” she whispers.

“Not like this.” I lean in closer, brushing the edge of her jaw with my nose, my lips. “Not forsomeone.Not for somethingI need.”

Her breath stutters. “Why me?”

“Because you looked at me like I was a monster, and still touched me like I wasn’t.” My voice drops even lower. “You hated me, and it didn’t make me stop wanting you.”

She’s trembling again.

I could take her. Right now. Push her into the mattress, remind her who she belongs to.

“I would’ve killed a thousand more to bring you back,” I murmur. “Iwillif they ever try again.”

She doesn’t move, just stares.

“You think I’m cruel,” I add. “You’re right. I am.” My eyes lock on to hers. I let her see every ounce of truth. “If all this is love,” I say, voice hard, honest, raw, “then I am in love with you.”

She gasps, not from surprise. I don’t take it back. I don’t soften it.

What I feel for her isnot soft.It’s a brutal, bleeding kind of love. One that destroys everything else in its way.

She stares at me like the words punched the air out of her lungs. Like she doesn’t know whether to recoil or collapse into me.

The tension between us is thick enough to strangle. Her lips are parted, breath shaky. Her pupils are blown wide, and not from fear—no, I know that look now. I’ve studied it in the dark, memorized every flicker of her resistance and what lies beneath.

She wants to fight me, perhaps she also wants me to win.

“Elise,” I say again, softer now, but it still carries weight. Like her name belongs to me. “Say something.”

Her throat works as she swallows. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.

“Then don’t do anything.”

“That’s not how it works, Kolya.” Her voice is trembling and strong all at once. “You don’t get to say something like that and expect me to just… fold.”

My mouth curves—not a smile. Something darker. “I don’t want you to fold.”

She blinks.

“I want you toburnfor me,” I murmur, inching closer, so close our foreheads nearly touch. “The way I burn for you.”

A shiver runs through her. Her fingers curl tighter into the bedsheets, knuckles pale. I see the war happening behind her eyes—rage and desire, confusion and craving. It’s a beautiful mess. Mine to unravel.

“I hate you sometimes,” she breathes.

I nod once. “Good. It means you still feel something.”

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